


Please Come Home for Christmas

by primrose



Category: due South
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrose/pseuds/primrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Friends and relations send salutations</i>
  <br/>
  <i>sure as the stars shine above,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>but this is Christmas, yes, Christmas my dear;</i>
  <br/>
  <i>It's the time of year to be with the ones you love</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Come Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/gifts).



> Lyrics from "Please Come Home For Christmas" by Charles Brown and Gene Redd.

_Bells will be ringing the sad, sad news_  
 _Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues_  
  


Ray Vecchio  
1385 Woodbine St.  
Clearwater, FL 33755 

November 28, 2000

Hey, Benny,

I know you're probaby mad at me for not being in touch for so long. I tried a bunch of times to pick up the phone but for some reason I just couldn't do it. And yeah, I got your messages, I just couldn't bring myself to call back. Then I thought, hey, I'll shoot off an email or a fax or something. Do you guys even have faxes up there? Then I figured I should spell it out in real writing. Anyway, you probably already know, because someone's gotta have told Stanley, but since he's not at my door with a shotgun, I thought maybe somehow you missed it, so here goes.

Stella and I aren't married anymore, haven't been for a few months, now. My fault, no way around it. Tell Stanley I didn't cheat on her or anything, I just wasn't as good of a husband as I should have been. You know, the kind that mows the lawn and goes to work and doesn't wake up at night yelling at ~~dead people~~ ghosts. I tried to make it work, _tried_ , and tried, and Stel did everything right, but I couldn't. It got to the point where I wouldn't go anywhere _except_ work, trying to run everything at the Bowl-o-Rama, snapping at everyone who talked to me, including the guys who worked there, who had been there way before we bought the place. I did the same thing to Stella, and she tried, she really did. And after a while I started trying, too, and now I'm seeing a guy about why I'm so messed up. He says it's because of Vegas, like somehow I didn't know that, but it turns out that paying someone to listen isn't as stupid as it sounds. And it's getting better, _I'm_ getting better, even though I started too late for Stel and me.

Anyway, the shrink says I should get out of Florida, make a new start, you know? So I'm going, but I don't know where I'm going yet. Any ideas? And don't say Chicago, 'cause I'm not going back there. I already had that argument with Frannie, and believe it or not, I won. Talk to you soon, Benny. Tell Stanley hi, okay? That is, if he doesn't want to kill me.

Ray

  
  


From: srkowalski@yahoo.ca  
To: rvecchio@bowlorama.com

Fuck you, Vecchio.  
  
  


From: srkowalski@yahoo.ca  
To: rvecchio@bowlorama.com  


Okay, so Fraser thinks I need to say more than that.

But still, fuck you, Vecchio. Fuck you and your stupid self-pity and your stupid-ass letter (and yeah, Fraser let me read it, what are you gonna do about it?). My mum called right after it all happened, and then Stella got on the line and spilled the whole story. And you know what she said? She said it wasn't your fault, it was the feds' for sending you so deep undercover for so long and not giving you therapy right away when you were yanked out of it like that. And cause I know undercover real good, I know she's right, so I actually don't wanna kill you. Still want to kick you in the head a few times, but not cause of Stella. Stella always lands on her feet, she'll be fine. It's Fraser who's been freaking out. He's been calling you every night, which you might know if you'd actually answered your phone. Ditto for email. In fact you probably do know because he left a million messages on your answering machine before it filled up and wouldn't let him anymore. Look, I know what happened to you sucked bigtime, and then the divorce on top of everything, but last time I looked, you and Fraser were buddies. If you couldn't trust him, who could you? Drug kingpins trust Fraser, little kids trust Fraser, why the hell couldn't you? So anyway, if you want to make it right with me, make it right with him. You know how he is with people. He'll be okay, but not til he talks to you. One letter isn't gonna cut it. And the way it went down, maybe even calling him won't. I'm thinkin it might be a good idea to get your sorry Italian ass up here, and pronto. You need a place to go? We got space, until you figure things out. And I'm telling you Vecchio, you'd better start packing your bags, or I'm gonna come down and pack 'em for you, with or without Fraser. Did I mention fuck you? Fuck you, Vecchio. Now get your ass up here.

  
  


From: bfraser@rcmp-grc.gc.ca  
To: rvecchio@bowlorama.com  


Dear Ray,

Thank you for your letter. I was planning on replying in a similar fashion; however, Ray has beaten me to the punch, as it were, by sending you an email. He has declined to show me its exact contents, and of course I respect his privacy. Considering how he reacted when he read your letter (against my advice, I might add, and quite without my knowledge), I would imagine it was well-peppered with expletives and possibly even threats to your person. I hope you realize he does not mean you any actual harm (more than once he has informed me that he considers you an "okay guy", which, translated, means he likes you); he was merely reacting out of concern for me. I must admit I was quite concerned (and, all right, more than a little hurt) when you didn't answer my phone calls, and even more so when your answering machine became full and I couldn't leave any more messages. Not that I expected you to answer them after the first four or five, but I did not want you to think that I had stopped trying to reach you.  


As much as I am saddened by the news of your divorce, I am very glad to hear that you are doing better and getting proper counseling. Ray has wondered since you returned from your assignment why you did not receive enough support at the outset. If you had, perhaps you would have decided that marrying a woman you barely knew immediately after a difficult assignment may not have been the wisest of decisions (and no, you will not be getting any lectures from me; I have made a few rash decisions in the past as well, and it does no good to dwell on them).  


Please come, Ray. There is plenty of room, and you are welcome to stay as long as you wish.

Fondly,  
Benton

P.S. Diefenbaker would like you to know that he would also enjoy your company. He has several requests for certain edible items, should you decide to come, but now is not the time for listing them and I've admonished him about it.  
  
  


From: rvecchio@bowlorama.com  
To:bfraser@rcmp-grc.gc.ca  


Hey, Benny,

Okay, so I guess I could come up there. I mean, if Stanley's still okay with it. It's not like I have anywhere else to go, and I'm sure not gonna stay in Florida. Tell me again why I wanted to move to Florida? It's a weird place, Benny, let me tell you. When's good for you?  
Ray  
  
  


From: bfraser@rcmp-grc.gc.ca  
To: rvecchio@bowlorama.com

Dear Ray,

Ray and I hope you will consider coming for the holidays. There are many holiday activities and events in Inuvik, including a decoration judging (Ray insists we will win the "Most Unique" award because nobody else has chili pepper lights in their display) and a craft fair featuring many traditional Inuit items from local vendors. Nothing helps take one's mind off of one's troubles like a handmade antler carving. Ray and I each have a pair of sealskin boots that were purchased at last year's fair. 

Come for Christmas, Ray. I miss you.

Benton  
  
  


From: srkowalski@yahoo.ca  
To: rvecchio@bowlorama.com  


You better get here in time, Vecchio. You owe it to Fraser for ignoring him all this time. Besides, Dief has a huge Christmas list and we can't get some of that stuff here. And no more emails or letters or carrier pigeons, okay? Just _call_ , already. Jeez.  
  


Epilogue

_So won't you tell me you'll never more roam?_  
 _Christmas and New Year will find you home;_  
 _There'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain,_  
 _and I'll be happy, happy once again...._

25 December, 2000  
Inuvik, NT  
4:31 pm.

 

"Would you like another slice of pie, Ray?" 

"No, thanks, Benny." Vecchio groaned and rubbed his belly dramatically. "I don't think I've ever been this full. And if either one of you ever tell Ma I said that, I'll deny it. It'd hurt her feelings." 

"Your secret is safe with us, Ray," Fraser replied solemnly, clearing away empty plates and bottles. 

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to hurt Ma's feelings. Besides, she might hit me." Kowalski opened three beers, plunking them down on the table. It would be Fraser's second, and they might have to toast to the Queen, but he was pretty sure he'd drink it. It was Christmas, after all. 

"Good. Now take your apron off and sit, Benny, you're making me nervous. You, too, Stanley."  
They sat. Kowaski didn't even complain about Vecchio calling him Stanley. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even Fraser--especially not Fraser--but he was kinda starting to like it.

Vecchio started to say something, cleared his throat, took a swig of his beer, and started again. "So, um. I wanted to say something elegant and suave, but since I'm not good at that kind of stuff I guess I'll just say thanks. To both of you. To _all_ of you--hey, where _is_ Dief?" 

"Diefenbaker has gone out for the evening. Our neighbors have adopted a lovely yellow Lab named Marlee, and Dief has been very much looking forward to meeting her. He even offered to bring her one of the crullers you gave him as a welcome gift."

Kowalski rolled his eyes. "You didn't buy into that one, did you?" 

"Of course not, Ray. I told him that Marlee is welcome to come here and have the cruller. With her family's permission, of course." 

Ray smiled and and shook his head. "Some things never change." 

"I think that's a good thing, Ray", replied Fraser. "And you're very welcome." 

Vecchio raised his bottle, looking from Fraser to Kowalski, who raised theirs in turn. "Merry Christmas to old friends. And not so old friends." 

"To good times to come," said Fraser, his voice little more than a whisper. Their bottles clinked together.

They sat in comfortable silence, Kowalski wasn't sure for how long. The lights and the tree and the food and the beer cast a warm glow over the room and seemed to slow time down. Kowalski had never seen Fraser look happier, and if he noticed that Vecchio's eyes were real pretty when he smiled, so what? It's not like he was gonna say it out loud, or anything. He figured he should say something else, though, before he _did_ say it out loud, so he raised his bottle high, and declared in a loud voice, "To Her Majesty, the Queen!". 

The wattage on Fraser's smile went up by a factor of about a thousand. "Why, thank you, Ray, how sweet of you to think of her!"

"Don't mention it, Benton-buddy, you would have said it yourself, anyway". 

"True enough, Ray, true enough."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make this more slashy, but the characters weren't ready yet (hey, Kowalski is still dealing with Vecchio's pretty eyes!). More in the universe will probably be coming, as will slashier climes. :D


End file.
